Page 24 of Better Daddy
“I amnotsleeping with you.” Annoyed again, I haul myself to my feet and follow him.
Not a single one of our friends follows. Not that I blame them. If I could, I’d run and hide too. Between my blood boiling and the steam coming from Sully’s ears it’s clear this fight could go nuclear.
He sets the suitcase by the door and motions to the queen-size bed pushed against one wall. “You can have the bed.”
I inhale a steadying breath but immediately regret it when I’m assaulted by a scent that is one hundred percent Sully. Nostalgia washes over me, and memory after memory pummels me. He still wears the cologne I bought him for our first anniversary. For nearly twenty years, the familiar smell has grounded and comforted me.
Mask, Sloane. Put on your damn mask. You will not cry.
I swallow back the melancholy threatening to cause tears and pull my shoulders back. “Obviously. You can sleep in the bunk with T.J.” I nod at the beds. Both are made up, as if this was his plan all along. I hate him for knowing that I’d force him into the bunk and not even attempting to argue about it. For knowing I’d put a grown man—a six-foot-four man, with broad shoulders and, well, broad everything—in a bed designed for a child.
Just the thought of him on the top bunk, since T.J.’s afraid of heights, is ridiculous.
Sully steps aside, giving me a better view of the queen mattress and the oversized pregnancy pillow on top of it. “That’s the plan. I have your bed all set. If you need anything else?—”
I shake my head and press my lips together. I want to tell him to get rid of the damn pregnancy pillow. I hated the one I had seven years ago, and I hate this one just as much. But seven years ago I had my husband to cuddle with. My husband’s body was my pillow.
So I’ll keep the dreaded thing. It’s all I have now. I guess Sully knew that was the case. That or he’s so oblivious to my preferences that he never noticed how, night after night, I’d kick that pillow to the floor, then turn over and snuggle up to him.
“I’ll grab the rest of your things and then leave you to unpack.” His voice is quiet, the tone defeated, like maybe he doesn’t actually want that.
I wish I knew how to move on from this stalemate. How to navigate us into the kind of rational conversation he asked for.
But there’s nothing rational about divorcing the love of my life. The person who broke me time and again while I waited, day after day, to see if the man I once adored would reappear. Eventually, I stopped waiting. I stopped hoping. This man in front of me is nothing but a mirage. It’s too hard to stand so close physically, yet be so, so far away emotionally. It’s easier to pick fights than it is to work through how we got here. When he sighs like I’ve annoyed or exasperated him, just by existing, it’s easier to remind myself that he’s not my Sully anymore.
Finally, I find my voice, keeping my focus averted. “Sounds good.”
He disappears, and I slump down on the bed, giving myself a moment to fall apart. Not a single thing about this situation sounds good, but for T.J.’s sake and the sake of this new life we’ve created, I have to try.
“Lo,” I call.
I took my time unpacking in peace, leaving my toiletries for last. I wander past what can only be described as a locker room in search of a second bathroom, but all I find are three additional bedrooms. Makeup bag pressed to my chest, I shuffle back into the tiled room I used on that fateful night several weeks ago.
Slowly, I turn in a circle, surveying the space. This can’t actually be theonlybathroom. God, I’m a terrible mother. How did I not investigate every inch of this apartment when I left T.J. here the first time?
The plastic curtain with pretty flowers on it looks new. No doubtbecause of Lo. I remember the curtain being very masculine. Navy blue, maybe?
There are seven of us now. And there’s only one shower? There’s no way we can all use it without coming up with a detailed schedule.
I stick my head out the door and call for my best friend again.
Lo rushes in, her eyes wide. “What? Did you see a mouse? I was sure Fuzzy would scare them all away.”
Mouse? Heart rate picking up, I back myself up against the wall and search the floor for rodents.
“Cal!” Lo shouts. “There’s a mouse.”
My brother-in-law charges in, wielding a broomanda mop like swords, nearly hitting the both of us. “Where is it?” he demands. “Lola, get on my back. I’ll protect you.”
My best friend jumps on her boyfriend’s back and clings to him like a baby monkey as he scours the floor.
“Where did you see it, Sloaney?” With the mop, Cal pokes at the trash can beside the toilet. “Point me in the right direction and then run. Save yourself.”
My momentary panic is quickly replaced by annoyance. This man is so damn dramatic. I step away from the wall and edge away from Cal’s weapons. “I didn’t say there were rodents.”
Lo, who’s got her legs wrapped around Cal’s waist while she clutches his shirt, squeaks. “There aren’t any mice? You’re sure?”
I inhale deeply. I can’t take her seriously when she looks like this. “No mice. Can you get down?”
